Set the Sails
by taivaspoika
Summary: When an invisible threat rises from the North, unlikely bonds are formed.
1. Quite a Reputation

Set the Sails ch.1 – Quite a Reputation

Author: taivaspoika

Rating: 15+

Genre: Romance/Adventure/Drama/Stuff

Pairings: Several, main couple is Sweden/Prussia

Summary: When and invisible threat rises from the north, unlikely bonds are formed.

--

"_You have heard my commands, yes, love?" the man in the armchair said in silent voice. He didn't wait for the answer before continuing. "You understand them well enough, yes?"_

_Other man, kneeling before him, nodded._

"_Then make me proud, dear…"_

_The man stood up and bowed. Without saluting he turned and walked away, the clacking of his heels echoing in the dark corridors._

_--_

Far away from those great Northern Halls, in some nameless port town, inside a dusty old tavern located in filthy back alleys, was a man, arguing loudly with another.

"Ye think ye can just come in and walk 'round like ye own the frigging place? Ye think?!" the man shout, grabbing the other by collar and shaking him roughly. "Ye're just a new comer here and we dun welcome those here with open arms, eh."

The other man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, glaring back at the shouter. "'m not h're fo' w'lcom'ness."

Giving the man another violent shake, the one that had been shouting before opened his mouth again. "So what's yer business here? This ain't a place to have a holiday in, ye know."

"'s not 'f y'r concern. Now r'le'se m'."

The offender leaned closer, blonde locks falling onto his face. The smell of alcohol surrounded him like an aura. "Oh, I dun think so… heh, ye're kinda good-looking. Whaddye say, we have some fun?"

The other grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands away from his collar and giving him a cold glare. "…'n y'r dr'ms."

It's not a wise thing to piss of a drunken man, even less already mad drunken man.

"Oh, ye little…" he growled, punching the other in the face. The punch was only powerful enough to make his glasses fall askew. "Ye should run away if ye dun wanna get beaten to a bloody pulp, eh, handsome?"

The other just silently straightened his glasses, calmly taking his hat from the counter as if he had not been punched at all. He paid no attention to his offender as he turned towards the door to leave.

"Hey, ye. Not so fast. Ye dun go 'round here ignoring me, ye hear me?" the drunk man shout and grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

Swiftly, the man with glasses turned around and even faster he pulled his hand back, clenching it into a fist and punched the other's jaw. The punch was more powerful than the first of the night. The drunk offender was sent flying before he loudly crashed onto a nearby table.

"'ve g't no b'sin'ss with y'."

"Yowzee! That hurt, ye know!" The man exclaimed, rubbing his jaw. "Ye ruined my face, ye basterd."

The man who had punched him simply shrugged, he didn't care, and made his way to the door.

The usually noisy tavern was now silent and as lively as a graveyard, the usually cheery folk staring either at the man who was now going out of the door or at the other man, slowly getting up and staggering towards the first one, a mad gleam in his eyes. As soon as he was almost steady with his step, he dashed out, jumping on the back of the other. They tumbled to the ground.

The fight was even, but not the one of the cleanest seen on that alley. The two men struggled for several minutes, rolling in the filth of the back alley, dealing punches, clawing at each other's faces, kicking when possible and biting wherever they could reach.

In the end, the man with the glasses - that had gotten lost, possibly broken at some point of the fight - had the upper hand, pinning the other to the ground. They were breathing heavily, few beads of sweat rolling down their foreheads and clothes stained with dirt and blood.

"Is.. Is that all ye got?" the man who had started the fight asked, trying to sound confident even in his position.

"'m not g'in' t'be't y' t'de'h", the other mumbled as he got up and offered his hand to the man he had just beaten up.

It seemed that the man accepted it, but then he suddenly pulled the other back down, kicking him in the stomach in the process. The man groaned in pain as he fell, but managed to punch the other on the face, once again.

"Aw, shit, oh fuck, fuck, fuck ah _fanden_…" the drunk man moaned, holding his hand against his left eye. Blood was dripping through his fingers and his face was turning white.

Next to him, on the ground, was the other man gasping for air and squinting his eyes in order to see even something. He got up into a sitting position, glancing at the other. The other was panting now, his face wearing an expression of a man who is soon going to faint. _Aw, crap,_ he thought. _Now I have to take him to a doctor. There's no way he's going to make it on his own._

With this thought in his mind, he searched the ground for his abused glasses and finally found them, horribly crooked, one of the lenses missing and other almost cracked in two. He shook his head as he put the glasses on. One lens was better than no glasses at all.

He crawled back to the other man, now swaying back and forth alarmingly, gaping and - could it be true - quietly sobbing. "…hey. Let m' see y'r f'ce", he muttered, attempting to lift the other's hand from his face. The other tried to slap his hand away, but there was no strength in his arm.

He had seen many things in his youth. This… This was still far more horrible than all those things he had seen, the things he had done. This was…

His face was bruised and swollen, left half covered in blood.

And in the place of his left eye… was a bloody hole.

"…_herre Gud_", he whispered. "Y' n'd a d'ct'r… 'nd f'st. "

He stood and held his head for a moment, attempting to feel more stable before pulling the other up by his arm. He supported most of the other's weight as he started to drag the other with him, away from the back alleys and towards the slightly more lit main street.

The few passer-bys that were still out there at that late hour made way to the men, murmuring curiously or completely ignoring them. No one dared to come close, no one dared to offer them help.

"…hey", the man who was being dragged groaned. "…I… I know… some…someone… w-who could… ergh… know a doctor….aw _fan_…"

The other nodded, encouraging the man to give him directions. He gave the directions with small tugs at the other's sleeve, having lost a lot of blood and so being too weak to speak much. The man dragging him was already weakening too, it wasn't like the other had been easy on him. Each step they took was harder, but they were - slowly but surely - inching closer to their destination.

The building was small, and the man leading them wouldn't have noticed it unless the one he was dragging hadn't tugged at his sleeve harsher than before. It was a two-storey house, cramped between two higher buildings. The façade was slightly crumbled, but that was nothing new in this particular town.

"…k-knock…" the man on worse condition whispered, before finally fainting.

The other laid him down on the street, then knocked on the door. Nothing happened for a minute, so he knocked again. This time he heard steps, not too quick nor too slow. Then there was some fumbling on the other side of the door.

A small window opened in the door, and a blonde man with clear, blue eyes stared at him, not surprised at all by the bruises in his face or his broken glasses. Instead, he asked: "Who are you?"

He shook his head. "…d'sn't m'tter. W'need a d'ct'r."

"'We?' Who else is there?"

"…don't kn'w him. 's h'rt b'dly, 'nc'nscio's. "

"…you look like you could do with some treatment as well."

The two men started at each other for a while, before the one inside nodded. "Fine. My brother is a doctor. He'll be here as soon as I give him a call. Come in, but don't dirty my carpets."

The blonde disappeared from the small window, and soon the door opened. The man from inside peeked out and noticed the man who had fainted a few moments ago. Even though his expression did not change, the air around him seemed to suddenly change. He tensed. "You are not bringing him into my home."

"…he t'ld m'to c'me h're. He th'ght th't y' w'ld h'lp."

"I sure as hell am _not_ going to help him", the man muttered, staring madly at the tiling of his home.

The man who had come to seek his help, glared at him. "…j'st c'll y'r broth'r. Y' don't h've t'do an'ythin' 'lse."

The other took a deep breath and glanced at the unmoving body on the ground. "…fine. But I will ignore him. Completely."

He shrugged and pulled the fainted man up, dragging him in. The blonde had already gone, he heard him murmuring to a phone. He was calling his brother. He wasn't sure what the other was saying, but he could hear word 'emergency' being used more than once.

He had no idea as to where to drag the man he was carrying, so he just walked along the corridor, past the stairs, until he came to a door. He pushed it open with his shoulder and stumbled into a small living room. Ungracefully he dropped the other man to the couch and left the room. The blonde had finished with his phone call and was coming down the stairs.

"…he's in the living room?" he asked as they met in the corridor. The other nodded. "You should go there too. My brother's on his way."

"…'s n'thin' I can't t'ke c're 'f m'self."

The blonde shook his head. "Just as you wish. He's still going to check you." He held out his hand. "I'm Noreg. As long as you're in my house, you'll do as I say."

The other nodded, ignoring the hand. "'m Sv'r'ge."

"…Sverige, as in Sverige 'the Death glare'?"

He nodded again, looking away in embarrassment.

"You have quite a reputation, if I may say so. How many years it has been? Five, six? Maybe seven?"

The knock on the door saved Sverige from more questions, if only for some time. Noreg hurried to the door, looking like he didn't care when he clearly did. He opened the small window to see who it was on the other side and not even a minute later, he opened the whole door.

Sverige didn't know what he had been expecting, maybe an older brother, a man in his thirties or late twenties, but at least not this boy who couldn't be even twenty.

Noreg turned to face him. "This is Ísland. He's a qualified doctor."

Ísland nodded as a greeting, before turning to his brother. "Where's Danmark? Wasn't he hurt?"

"…s 'n th' l'vin' r'm", Sverige said, assuming the man he had brought in was Danmark. "…Wh're's th' b'thr'm?"

With a small nod Ísland excused himself from the other men's company, making his way to the living room.

"Bathroom's upstairs. On the right", said Noreg. He turned around and seemed to follow Ísland at first, but as he passed the door to living room, Sverige understood that maybe he really had meant what he had said about ignoring the man - Danmark. Sverige shrugged, not really caring about that and climbing up the narrow staircase. He found the bathroom just fine, but when he turned the light on and looked at himself in the mirror… He didn't feel half as bad as he looked.

His face was bruised and swollen, here and there were stains of blood. Not to mention his clothes - they were bloody and filthy, from rolling in the dirt and dragging the bleeding man around. He raised his arms to remove his long coat, but stopped as pain pierced through his left side. "_Fan…_ m'st b' a rib 'r tw'…" he muttered. He quickly washed his face and his hands, then returned to the living room.

Ísland was leaning over Danmark's unmoving body, examining him with expertise and care. "…who did this to him?" the white-haired boy asked as Sverige entered the room.

Ísland glanced at the other man and tilted his head. "It was you, right? Unless you two were fighting a gang. …which I doubt."

"…he 'ttack'd m'."

Ísland nodded, it was an understanding, not judging, gesture. "…it's so like him. To attack people when he's drunk. "

Sverige seated himself on an leathery armchair, hoping that his - or Danmark's - blood wouldn't stain it. From there, he watched as the young man took care of the other. Ísland washed Danmark's face and disinfected the eye. He frowned. "What is this… a piece of glass?" He glanced at Sverige. "…oh. Must be from you glasses."

He then resumed to the task of tending Danmark. Sverige had to hand it to him - Ísland was good at what he was doing. He removed Danmark's coat and slid his fingers down his sides, brows furrowed and feeling if anything was broken. Then finally, he sighed. "…three ribs. Nothing I can do about that…perhaps lessen his pain with morphine."

Ísland talked as if he was by himself, not minding Sverige at all. He took a syringe with a long needle out of his bag, filling it from a small bottle and finally injecting it to Danmark's strong arm. He nodded to himself, then turned to face Sverige.

"Your turn", he said, calmly walking towards the older man and kneeling beside the chair he was sitting in. "If you'd be so kind, take off you coat. I'd like to examine you, too."

Without saying a word, Sverige stripped himself of his coat, groaning quietly as he had to lift his arm.

Ísland shook his head and sighed quietly, but said nothing. He frowned a bit as he felt Sverige's sides, trying to feel if anything was broken. "…two ribs… nothing much…"

As Ísland examined the rest of Sverige's body, there was a loud, hurried knock on the front door – it was so loud that they heard it well even if they were in the living room. Then there were Noreg's steps and his hushed voice. There was another voice, too, worried and mixed with something that could be.. maybe fear? Or was it panic? Nevertheless, Noreg apparently let the man in as there was a creak as the door opened and thud as it closed behind them. Then two sets of steps closing in.

"You're pretty much fine. I can't really help you. Maybe give some morphine…" Ísland was just about to take out another syringe, but the living room door opened and a short, blonde man hurried in.

"Ísland! This is, this is… it's horrible!" he sobbed, throwing his arms around the white haired man, who just patted his back, totally dumbfounded.

Sverige took this as his cue to escape from the situation and possible overdose of morphine, but Noreg caught his arm, giving him a look, telling he should stay and listen.

The newcomer sobbed for a few more minutes, clinging onto Ísland. He then looked up, his voice desperate as he whispered.

"_He… he told me that… they… he… they're planning… they're going to do it, the… the attack… it's… I can't believe… he.. he was always so kind to me…_"

--

I decided to call them with their native names - Sverige is Sweden, Noreg is Norway(could've also used Norge, but Noreg is way cooler), Ísland is Iceland, Danmark is Denmark and - though it hasn't been revealed yet - Suomi is Finland.

..oh, right. About the title. I couldn't think of anything cool so, yeah.  
In Max Payne, there are three parts and every part is divided into chapters that are divided into "parts". Every one of these "parts", chapters and parts have a name that comes up in the story line or dialogue - that's what I wanted to try here.

I really don't know when I will write the next chapter, maybe when I feel like it. Butbutbutbut! You can always give me some suggestions – what pairings you'd like to see, what kind of situations and plot twists there should be… I want this story to be kind of interactive, within some boundaries. That are made up by me. Hahahahahhahahahhaha…


	2. Set the Sails

I know I promised to have this ready in May, early June. Well. I did have this ready, but then stuff happened.

And I ended up forgetting this... now I dug it up, un-betad and all. Ah well. Hope it's good.

Set the Sails ch. 2 - Set the Sails

_Truly, even if he had been raised as one, he was no military man by nature. And at that moment, he knew it better than ever before._

_The men. All of them – he had no idea how many, but at least few hundreds. And he. Alone, in front of them._

_As their commander._

_What was his master thinking?He knew his goals, he knew his ways... but this. This was too much for him._

_...however, his master's wishes had to be fulfilled – and if he failed, his master would find another pet to do his bidding._

–

As soon as the small blonde had rushed into the already crowded room, the atmospehere had completely changed. Earlier it had been rather calm, but now the air was heavy with worry and anticipation. Sverige observed the situation quietly, trying to figure out what the others were talking about. What was the reason why the news had been so shocking.

Apparently the others knew each other and he suspected that he was the only stranger in the room – the boy hadn't even given the unconscious Danmark another look. Or maybe it was just because he seemed to be too shaken by his news. He was sobbing quietly, holding onto Ísland for support. The silver-haired boy patted his back, trying to make him stop crying. To Sverige, he looked almost like he was a bit uncomfortable doing it.

"Suomi. Please explain Sverige here, I think he needs to know what's going on", Noreg said, sitting in another leathery armchair.

Suomi, the blonde boy, nodded and hiccupped quietly. "Y-yeah."

Sverige stared at him. Either the kid was still too shocked by the news or he knew who he was, because he looked terrified as he watched him.

"I... It all started years ago when I still lived with my family in the capital", Suomi started. Noreg coughed quietly, signaling that no one was interested in his childhood.

"Ah, s-sorry... " he stuttered and took a deep breath. "I don't really want to talk about it...but I knew a person. He was very dear to me, until someone took him away from me.. Even after that we kept in touch, he... he tells me all these horrible things they make him do."

The room was quiet, except for Suomi's silent sobbing. "H-he... he told me that his master is after something b-big... something really big a-and that they may... a-attack. N-now he, he... he called me and s-said that it's happening."

Noreg coughed. "Go on. Did he tell you where?"

"Brother, you're too hard on him", Ísland said, expressionless as ever but still defending his friend. "He's still shocked... he did love him very much."

Noreg sighed and nodded. "Whatever." He stood up to leave the room, but stopped for a moment to glance at Danmark. "I want him gone as soon as possible. Can you do that, Ís?"

"...I won't throw my patients out, no matter how much you hated them. He stays."

Noreg sighed again and exited the room while mumbling 'whatever'. Ísland shook his head at his brother.

Sverige had been listening quietly all the time, but he had a question. He coughed. Ísland glanced at him with his brows furrowed.

"...'n how does th's c'ncern me?" he asked. He had just happened to be there. If he had never met Danmark. If he had never come to this place in the first place... he wouldn't be in that house, in that company and hearing all these bizarre things about masters and servants from people he didn't even know.

Suomi shrugged, still sobbing and trying to wipe off his tears. Ísland repeated the gesture. Danmark just laid still, supposedly still unconscious. Suomi dared to open his mouth. "But you... you'll stay with us, now that you know?"

Sverige shook his head. Not as a negative answer. He just didn't know if he'd stay or not. He wasn't sure if he could even stay... He was only stopping by in this town.

"Y-you have to", Suomi whispered. "The more people we have on our side..."

He didn't even have to finish his sentence. Sverige understood, in a way. "..._okej._ 'nly as long as I c'n."

"Y-yes! That's good enough", Suomi said with a bright smile, darkened only by the tears still on his cheeks. "Ísland, you too? "

The white-haired boy nodded, stiffling a yawn. "Suomi, I suggest you go ask Noreg if he has prepared us all rooms... It is getting rather late."

Suomi smiled weakly and got up, sighing heavily before exiting the room. Ísland stared quietly at Danmark, deep in his thoughts. Surely he was worried about his patient. None of the males in the room spoke, but it was fine. They didn't have to. They had nothing to discuss, anyway.

Few moments later Noreg came in. He had, like Ísland had predicted, prepared rooms for all three of his guests. Still not paying any attention on Danmark, Sverige noted. Tha man must've done something really horrible to Noreg to get him hate him so much... for Noreg looked like a person who didn't care much about what others think of him, a person who didn't waste his time messing with feelings.

From the door, Noreg looked at Sverige. "Follow me."

As ordered, Sverige got up and followed Noreg after giving Ísland and Danmark one final glance. Hopefully Danmark was going to be okay – he seriously didn't need another charge for abuse or possibly even attempted murder. Noreg led him upstairs, they passed Suomi on the way and finally ended up at the end of the corridor, in the front of a small wooden door.

"There", Noreg said. "We'll talk more in the morning."

Sverige nodded and raised his hand to open the door, suddenly stopping. "Ya gonna do s'methin'?"

"I need to make some preparations. We'll talk more in the morning."

When Noreg refused to give him anymore information on the matters on hand, Sverige just nodded again and entered his room.

Ísland was downstairs, waiting for Noreg there. As the older of the brothers got there he gave a small smile to the younger. Ísland nodded. "I knew you'd go get her. Come back soon, you too need your sleep – I will not tolerate you napping all day or suddenly collapsing."

"I'll remember that, Ís. Go to bed. I'll be back sooner than you know", Noreg said while dressing his short overcoat and a cap. He turned to look to his brother one last time and nodded. "See you in the morning, _bror_."

Sverige was an early riser. Anyway, he himself thought that. Usually he'd get up before sunrise. Two hours, at least. But then again, he was originally from far north, where the sun barely rose in the winter time.

That morning, however, he woke up to the sounds of arguing. There were at least three voices involved and they were clearly from the dircetion of kitchen. Without much hesitating, he decided to make his way there – the noise erecting his curiosity and the delicious smell of french toast making his stomach grumble were reasons enough.

He didn't bother with dressing, his usual wife-beater would be just fine. It was dirty with dried blood, but maybe Noreg would let him wash it.

As Sverige got closer to the kitchen, he could make out who the people arguing were. He was quite surprised when he noticed there were Suomi – panicking, trying to calm the other two down – Noreg – very surprising to hear him shout, Sverige thought – and finally... Danmark, for Ísland's voice was much softer. Apparently the blonde man had awoken from his morphine-glazed dream.

Sverige knocked on the dark doorframe to stop the shouting. He stepped into the room, giving a nod to the others. Ísland wasn't in the room.

"_God morgon. _Fr'nch toast, 's it?"

The three men in the room hadn't been bothered by the quiet knocking at all, but now, at the sight of Sverige, tgey fell completely silent. Noreg then nodded and pointed towards the stove. "Help yourself. We were just discussing the matter on hand and how we should proceed."

"Emphasis on the word 'were'", Danmark muttered, poking his breakfast. "We were discussing until our host here started talking nonsense."

Noreg slammed his hand down hard. "I did not! You excuse of a human being, you... you dared to give comments on my food! The likes of you should have never entered my house in the first place!"

Danmark shrugged and gave Noreg a smug grin. "But I did make ye lemme in, didn't I?"

"Oh shut it! I'm only in this room because I need to brief Sverige, Suomi and my brother about what's going to happen next."

The room fell silent once again as Sverige sat down next to Noreg. He sarted devouring his portion of the French toast just quietly. To him, it tasted just fine. Maybe Danmark was used to some finer tastes – though he sure didn't seem that way, with his rude and laidback attitude. Even his clothes seemed to fit his personality – little too wrinkly to look presentable, but not nearly wrinkly enough to be disgusting. Sverige glanced at Danmark and flinched at the sight of the bloody bandage covering his eye. His fault, his brain commented.

Ísland appeared at the door. He nodded as a greeting and came straight to sit by the table. He gave Danmark one glance. "You shouldn't be up yet."

"But I am! I'm feeling great, little Ís", Danmark beamed. Ísland and Noreg both rolled their eyes.

With a sigh, Noreg cleared his throat. "Now that we're all here... I'd like to tell you, that we're leaving this town. I've made the neccessary preparations already, so no need to worry about that. I just want to make clear, that once we leave the port, there is no going back."

Earlier the atmosphere had been rather easygoing, but now it was all about business. Serious. The only voice, besides Noreg speaking, was the quiet tick-tocking of clocks and other little machines.

Danmark was the first one to open his mouth after Noreg finished. "Ye've gotten _Arche _ready? I thought she was already too old to be used for travellin'... let alone for possible combat!"

"Shut it, will you? I'll have you know, I've made several improvements. She's better than ever. And, what do you even know? You haven't ridden her in years!" Noreg replied, glaring at Danmark. Danmark just shrugged.

"U-um... What is this _Arche_ you talk about?" Suomi asked, tilting his head to the side.

"My brother's most beloved possession. His ship", Ísland enlightened him. "I think he has planned we're taking off this afternoon."

Noreg nodded and looked at every single person in the room. There was some sort of resolution in all their eyes, he thought. It was clear that they all would be boarding his ship. Even that worthless, useless fool, Danmark.

"And when we do", Noreg continued from where his brother quit. "When we do... I want all of you to help. It is hard to operate such a big ship with only five of us. However, I think we can make it."

Suomi nodded eagerly. "I'll do anything it takes to stop him! But... are you sure just five of us will be enough?"

"Of course he ain't!" Danmark interrupted. "Right, Noreg? Ye dun really think we can do it alone?"

Noreg rolled his eyes. "_Nei._ I'm sure we'll run into people who'll help."

"In the meantime, however", Ísland continued", we'll just have to do by ourselves."

Danmark looked rather horrified at that, but Suomi just smiled happily. "I think it'll be fine! I mean, if you four are on my side, I'm sure everything will be alright. Ís can take care of wounds, Noreg has his powers and what I've heard, Sverige was rather good fighter some time ago!" Suomi said, his smile reaching his eyes. He was so full of hope, especially when compared to what he was like the day before.

"Heeey, ye! What 'bout me? I'm not useless, ye know!" Danmark whined, faking a hurt expression.

Suomi giggled. "Noreg says you're no good."

Danmark opened his mouth to protest – obviously very loudly – but Sverige was a little faster. "...let 'im f'ght."

Four heads and seven eyes turned to look, once again, at him. Danmark looked at him with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, Suomi was surprised and what Sverige could tell, Noreg was annoyed. He couldn't read Ísland's expression – though, he was rather sure he was annoyed, too. He and Noreg both had the same kind of wrinkle between their brows.

"What makes you think he even can? In the condition he's right now-" when Ísland begun to lecture, Sverige cut in rather rudely.

"...when he 's b'tter. He got m' r'ther good l'st n'ght."

Danmark smiled at Sverige, a bit reserved but still grateful. "Thanks, man. I knew I could count on ye!"

Sverige shrugged. He hadn't done it out of any warm feelings towards the other man. He had done simply because it would be helpful if they had more people. Noreg, finally finished with his breakfast, stood up.

"Listen now. If you have any unfinished business, I advice you to take care of it now. We're leaving in the afternoon. If you leave, don't bother coming back here. We'll meet at the harbour", he said, moving plates from the table to the wash basin. One by one, everyone finished their breakfasts and stood up, helping their host to clean up. And then, one by one, they said goodbye and left to take care of some loose ends.

In the end, only Noreg and Sverige remained. They sat in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in their hands and silently stared out of the window, to the empty street, hidden from the sunlight by tall buildings on the both sides of it.. Noreg had asked if Sverige had anything to do, to take care of, but he had just shaken his head and that had been the end of the conversation.

When clock struck twelve, Noreg got up. "I'm going to the harbour, to get _Arche_ ready. If you're not coming yet, lock the door when you do."

Sverige nodded and didn't bother to watch as Noreg left. He still had some time before they'de be leaving – some three hours or so – and he could maybe wash his coat and shirt without anyone bothering him.

Later in the afternoon – not three, but four hours – they were all gathered in the harbour. _Arche_, the ship Noreg was so proud of, stood tall under their inquisitive eyes. Danmark nodded approvingly. "Looks like ye really did some good changes after all!"

Noreg frowned. "This isn't all. There is more inside."

"Hah! Well, knowing you, there is always somethin' inside, eh?"

"Whatever. Everyone, get your stuff inside. We're about to leave", Noreg said and shrugged. Following his orders, Suomi picked up two large bags and carried them to the vessel with ease, Ísland had only his doctor's case. Danmark had nothing – just as Sverige and Noreg. Noreg having nothing was sensible, it was his ship and he had his belongins there at almost all times. Even when he was not using the ship for a long period of time. Sverige hadn't had anything with him when he had come to this town, so why would he have now? Only thing he missed having now was his metal pipe, the one he had beaten up so many innocent souls with. Of course, it wasn't like he was all helpless without it...

Danmark held his head and looked to the ship. "Ye've still got the thing I left last time?"

Noteg nodded. Danmark grinned, though his grin wasn't as light-hearted as it should've been – it seemed he was in pain. "Thanks, man. I knew I could depend on ye. Been missing it for years."

Suomi waved at them from the ship. "Come on! You know they won't wait for us!" he called and Ísland, standing by his side, nodded.

Without any more questions to be asked or things to be said, they all boarded the ship. _Arche_ was larger than Sverige had expected at first, but he got used to the idea of Noreg owning a good ship very quickly. He had seen stranger things in his life. However, what surprised him, was the fact that _Arche_ had a steering wheel. Most ships he had been on hadn't had one. In many ways, Noreg's ship was different from others. If it worked for Noreg, then who was he to argue with him?

Up on the bridge, Noreg was fiddling with the engine, doing final adjustments before they'd leave. And surely, sooner than Sverige had expected, the engine came to life and Noreg smiled at it. He truly loved his ship – and, Sverige was almost sure he had build it himself, from a scratch.

"Ís, help me with the sails", Noreg called and his younger brother nodded. Ísland had done it many times before and now he did it with routine. "You there", Noreg called again, looking at Danmark. "You and Sverige, help with the anchor."

"Aye aye, capt'n", Danmark smirked and showed Sverige where the ancor was located and how they'd pull it up. As soon as the anchor hit the side of the ship, Noreg twisted the wheel and gave a signal to Ísland to rise the sails.

And then they were out in the open sea, the coast and the small, insignificant port town growing smaller and smaller ibehind them.

"Wait for me... wait for us and we'll save you", Suomi thought, thinking his past lover with his eyes set to the horizon.

Arche is Latin and means beginning, I believe.


End file.
